The After
by Detecting history
Summary: What happens to Sherlock and his friends after Sherlock falls from the roof of St. Barts? Find out from Sherlock's point of view! A one-shot. Rated T because, well, because it is Sherlock! And also just so I am safe.


**A/N: Hey all! I thought I would try something different using Sherlock's point of view instead of John's. Reviews are much appreciated! Also, please tell me if I wrote Sherlock well and if you want me to write another story from his point of view.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the quotes used in this story or the characters. Maybe if I lived back in the late 1800s, but I don't. **

**P.S: As I side joke: without the authors note or disclaimer the actual number of words in this story is 2,221. I hope you all enjoy! I love writing for you all! You rock!**

I opened my eyes. I was lying on a cold, hard, metal slab. My head throbbed with a ringing headache. Slowly I sat up, trying to ignore the pain in my head. I looked around and figured out that I was sitting on an examining table at St. Bartholomew's. Automatically I analyzed everything else in the room, the lab equipment, the clock, and the counters. Deducing from this that Molly had worked late last night, my burial was Monday, and… _Growl._ Oh, and I was hungry. After not having eaten since jumping off that roof two days ago, I suppose I was supposed to be hungry. Except for the ringing headache from my overdose of Rhodendron Ponticum and my gnawing hunger, I felt no ill effects from that fall.

Just then Molly came into the Morgue. I only needed a quick look to tell that she had had two sleepless nights; she had a date tonight, had worked late at the Morgue, and recently had something tragic happen to her.

"Hello Molly. Who is the guy tonight?" She let out a startled gasp and rushed over to the examining table I was sitting on.

"Umm, one of the guys at the office. Are you alright? You had been sleeping for days and I thought you were going to end up like the other people I work with!" She shuffled her feet a bit then blinked a few times and asked, "Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, whatever you have behind that door will be fine." I called pointing toward the Morgue door. A look of astonishment passed over her face. Then she began to shuffle over towards the door.

"Umm alright. How did you know there was something behind here?"

"Because you paused momentarily behind the door and held your hands behind your back as if hiding something." I hopped off the examining table and walked over to the counter where I sat down. She brought me a plate of two day old chicken, fresh gravy, and canned last year sweet corn. I could tell that she had been saving this for me since the day I fell off the roof.

"Were you starting to worry about me?"

"Yes. You looked like you were never going to wake up!" She sniffled several times and then set about preparing my coffin. I finished up my food and then walked over to the coffin. I noticed the company design on the side and knew that only one burial ground in London used that company. Having noted this I walked out the door calling, "Laters!"

I knew when my burial would be and where it would be. Now all I had to do was show up and watch. It would be an awkward thing to watch one's own burial, but it might be fun.

Two hours before visitation began I walked into a grove of trees behind my burial site. From here I could see all that went on but they could not see me. I let my thoughts run back to the same track they had been on when I was considering making this jump. How devastating it would be to see John suffer. Mrs. Hudson too, but mostly John. He probably wouldn't cry; he would put on a brave face for those around him even though inside he was being torn apart. How could I ever stand in front of him now? After all I had put him through? Suddenly I hated Moriarty all the more for making me put the people I love and care about through this. I didn't care about my reputation. That had been built up fast enough; I could easily build that up again. Sure, Moriarty had given me a good game, until I realized it would have to end like this. Before I moved to Baker Street, I wouldn't have cared. There wasn't anybody in the world that would have cared if I died. But, now I really did have people who cared and it touched me. Moriarty had given me a brief glimmer of hope before he had destroyed it by using that gun. We had both been determined, but I had won. I was distracted from my thoughts because the funeral started. Seeing John in amongst the few people, I began to analyze him. He hadn't slept at all, but had cried very little. Hadn't changed his clothes in two days either. He was just drifting around, looking at nobody. Today looked like the day he had finally come to terms with the news. He looked miserably sad about it too. After the small ceremony was over, he walked over to my grave with Mrs. Hudson and began talking, "_I can't go back to the flat again, not at the moment." _I cringed upon hearing him say that. I figured he would eventually go back, so he could feel close to me, but I suppose two days later was a little bit too soon for someone as sentimental as John.

"_I'm angry." _A slow rumbling laugh came out of me. Wasn't he always angry at me?

"_**Nothing unusual in that, that's the way he made everyone feel. All the marks on my table, and the noise. Firing guns as early as one in the morning!"**_

"_Yeah,"_

"_**Bloody specimens in my fridge! Imagine keeping bodies where there's food! And the fighting, drove me up the wall with his carryings on."**_

"_Yeah listen, I'm not actually that angry okay?" _Of course, nobody could stay angry at me for long, especially not John.

"_**Okay, I'll leave you alone to, you know…" **_Then Mrs. Hudson's voice trailed away and she stepped out of John's way and down the path. I had some idea that I would hurt these people by doing this, but it was almost overwhelming to watch it up close.

"_Umm, hmm, you told me once that you weren't a hero." _That was true, I wasn't. Look at how much I was hurting my own friends! No true hero would ever do such a thing.

"_Umm, there were times I didn't even think you were human but," _Another low laugh escaped me, "_Let me tell you this, you were the best man and the most human, human-being that I have ever known and no-one will ever convince me you told me a lie. So, there." _At this tears began to form at the back of my eyes. People always complimented me on my intelligence, but no-one ever complemented _me._ John had just said the nicest thing I had ever, ever heard spoken about me. And somewhere, where I suppose my heart was; it touched me.

"_I was so alone and I owe you so much." _We were both alone. I had found my best friend just as he had, except I was a traitor. I had betrayed my own best friend.

"_Oh, please, there is just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle Sherlock for me. Don't be dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it, stop this." _I found it funny that John asked "just for him". But, it was true. He was the one person I would do nearly anything for. I blinked several times to remove the tears which were now just barely spilling out of my eyes. John was actually starting to cry now. And just for half of a moment the two of us cried together. Then we both stopped and blinked away the tears. Then John turned away from the grave and came walking by me. The only thing that ran through my mind over and over again was this: I will come back John, I won the game. My business done here I turned and walked away.

The next three months were really hard. Nothing really changed for me; I would still walk into a room and analyze it. But the fact was that out there were my friends, suffering. I woke up this particular morning to do what I always did, work at the Morgue. Today I had some forensic evidence from a new case that Molly wanted me to analyze. It took me less than a minute to figure out from this piece of cloth, that the owner was a woman in her 30s, fashion conscious, had dandruff, was never married, and had gotten into a violent fight. After writing all this down I decided that tonight would be a good night to go about my usual business. So that night I picked up my usual coat with no collar and no scarf and headed out. First I dropped by the police station to spy on the useless people there. Ah, Anderson had slept with Sally again. Dull. What else could I find that was more interesting? Ah, Lestrade what was he up to? I crouched down behind the window outside his office and listened. He started speaking, "If only Sherlock wasn't dead. It has taken you four weeks to solve a case similar to one he solved in three days."

"Yes well," Sneered Anderson, "He committed suicide."

"No he didn't." Said Lestrade, "He thought too much of himself to do that. I wonder all the time what really became of him." I couldn't take anymore. It touched me that after all these months Lestrade still cared. Usually these trips were fun because I could listen to all the cases and how they had bungled them. So I left the Police Station and headed over to 221b Baker Street.

I treaded quietly up the stairs and into 221c. There I sat and listened to the conversation above me.

"_Hmm, what is there to eat? Well thank goodness there is no head in the fridge this time. Oh, what's this? Fingers in the back of this drawer? How long have they been there?" _I heard the refrigerator door slam and the sound of feet above me as John walked over to his favorite chair with doubtless a bowl of oatmeal._ "Hmm, well today skull, I had five patients. One…" _I stopped listening. John was talking to my skull? How touching. Next the door upstairs opened and I heard Mrs. Hudson call out, _**"John, Sarah is here."**_

"_Thank you Mrs. Hudson I will be right out." _The door up above me closed with the sound it only made when Mrs. Hudson closed it.

"_Sherlock I am going out! I mean, humum, skull, I am going out." _I heard a slight snuffle and then the upstairs door closed. I took a deep breath. Then I walked out of the apartment and down the street. I couldn't take it anymore. Being shut up in that morgue while my friends were here. That morgue was boring anyway.

"Molly, I am going to reveal myself to John today. I think enough time has passed and I want to get out of this dull place."

"Dull place?" She replied defiantly.

"Yes well you should be occupied with your date tonight so I think tonight would be a good time. Besides, my mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work!"

"Oh, alright then." Then she shuffled out the door. I leapt into the air shouting, "Yes! I'm coming John!" Finally, I could get back to work. Real work. Not this dull forensic stuff that Molly gave me to keep me occupied. So I grabbed my scarf and wrapped it about my neck. Next I took my coat and slung it about my shoulders, turning up the collar for the finishing touch. This was the first time I had worn these clothes since _the fall_. Then I stepped out of the morgue. Ah, free at last! Down the street I walked, in my usual gliding fashion. After I got part way down the street, some curious glances were cast my way. Idiots. Of course it was me walking down this street. Of course I survived that fall. I was Sherlock Holmes. Finally one man came up to me and asked, "Umm, excuse me Sir, but what's your name?"

"The names Sherlock Holmes. Taxi!" I walked away from him, signaling a taxi as I went. I could just feel the guy's mouth drop open behind me.

"Hey everyone, It's Sherlock Holmes!" He called. I rolled my eyes and stepped into the nearest taxi.

The taxi pulled up at 221b Baker Street. For the first time in a year I got out as myself. I pulled open the door and softly treaded up the stairs to our apartment. Based on the time of day, I suspected John would be home. Before I arrived upstairs I pulled out my phone and watched part of Lestrade's press conference. I smiled to myself as he tried to wriggle around the reporter's questions. Wrong! I texted them. I shut the phone and stood in the doorway like I usually did.

"Well John? Are you coming?" I swear he whirled around faster than you have seen any human being ever do before.

"Sherlock?!"

"Why yes of course. You didn't think Moriarty actually beat me did you? I just texted Lestrade. Let's go." Then John got up and punched me in the face.

"You Bastard! You idiot!"He told me as we walked down the stairs.

"Taxi!" I called as we walked together to our next case.


End file.
